No doubt he knew enough of his world to recognise that he stood little chance against the word of a major of militia. Finger to his lips, Gerald pointed in the direction of the noise. Jack, whose clothes were covered with dust, and whose face was deathly pale from his recent exertion, looked more like a phantom than a living person. ‘Only me name,’ Kimble said apologetically. Vexation at his folly in suffering himself to be thus entrapped kept Wood for a short time silent. There was a strip of old rose brocade in the making that set an ache in the girl's heart for the want of it. Maggot, who promptly interposed her cudgel. She's fine. Or did he? Perhaps he had found another. “That was a moment of madness,” she said.
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